


A Storm in the land of Mists

by Lunarpup1998



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Crossover, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarpup1998/pseuds/Lunarpup1998
Summary: So this came about as a result of my post story blues. Basically I hate finishing any kind of story cause I always want more . Now normally the way I get over this is to essentially imagine what happens next. Normally these stories just stay in my brain, something to tide me over until the next bit of the series comes out or until I move on to another story be it another book a new tv show or a cool video game. (I like stories in any medium). But Occasionally I begin thinking on certain scenarios that I just need to see filled out properly.So after finishing a re-read of stormlight Archive and reading Rhythm of war. This made me want to re-read mistborn and as I was reading through Alloy of Law my mind kept drifting to the question of I wonder how these two vastly different worlds would interact. I started picturing conversations between Wax and Kaladin, I imagine Wayne Coaching Shallan on accents and disguises. I wanted to see how Allomancy and surgbinding would react. Could a proficient enough allomancer stand a chance against a radiant.So I began thinking ok what set of circumstances could lead to these encounters. I'm not gonna lie, it got dark.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Storm Approching

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the end of book 5 stormlight and BoM mistborn. Beware spoilers for Books 1-4 of stormlight and Era 1 Mistborn. It takes place during Era 2 mistborn but I'm not referencing any major events that have occurred.  
> I have taken a few liberties on account of book 5 not existing at the time I wrote this. Basically this is a what if story. What if the Radiants lost. What if Dalinar failed the contest of champions. What If Odium won. (most of this is just set dressing) but it provided me for a reason to have certain characters appear on a world not their own. With the war lost and the orders decimated they can't mount an effective offensive against the singers. So certain wordhoppers frightened that odium might find a way to wiggle free and terrorise other worlds. Decide to smuggle any resistance of roshar onto other worlds in an attempt to gather more allies or failing that warn people. 
> 
> This is in no means what I reckon will happen, its simply the scenario that best set up some of the scenes I wanted to write. But Boy did it get dark, I think of this as a dark timeline not the darkest, though it is pretty close. in my opinion anyway. several major characters are dead or unaccounted for, those who have survived are nearly at the end of their tethers.
> 
> As I have said I have taken several liberties either cause I lack certain information. Or I just don't have a supercomputer for a brain that can retain every bit of information I read. suffice to say if you see any continuity errors or characterisation flaws please let me know. I want this work to be as authentic as possible. 
> 
> lastly this is a fanfic based on the works of Brandon Sanderson, the characters and world are not mine. I take no credit for them.

**_STORM APPROACHING_ **

Waxillium Ladrian’s eye twitched, a small quirk he’d first noticed in the roughs. Something was wrong, profoundly wrong. He didn’t know what exactly. He just felt a near constant blanket of anxiety. It wasn’t due to the fact that he was sitting in one of the cities seediest pubs waiting for a notorious criminal to make an appearance. Or the fact that the mists were once again absent for the ninth night in a row. No it was something else. He glanced over to his partner Wayne, slumped over the bar in a ratty looking duster and equally well-worn wide-brimmed hat. He fingered at the piece of paper in his coat pocket a warrant authorising him to bring in the criminal known as the brute. A loneshark and a pewterarm, known for leaving people who got in his way, bloodied and broken. He’d put several constables in the hospital already and those who remained were too scared to try their luck. So an officer had approached Wax figuring how better to take down an Allomancer than with another, after all sometimes you just gotta fight metal with metal. he’d agreed of course partially out of boredom partially out of duty but mainly because the officer who had approached him, had practically begged him to.

The pub was mostly empty due in part to it’s reputation and the fact Wax had bribed most bystanders to go elsewhere. So the only people aside from himself, and Wayne was the barkeep a grizzled half-blind gentleman, never seen without his trusty cigar.

A cigar he put out as the door opened to admit a large balding man with a face only a mother could love. Wax exhaled as he motioned for the barkeep to disappear, he slunk back into the kitchens with a faint grumble which sounded like a plea to not wreck his bar _._ Wax knecked back a shot of whisky and steel shavings as the brute approached, topping up his metal reserves. 

“You got my money?” he said in a voice like granite, rough hard and unyielding. Wax smiled and pulled out the piece of paper and slammed it onto the table. The brute grunted “what’s this!” 

“Consequences my friend, they catch up to us all.” 

The brute growled and wax began to flare his mettle. Some more than others. 

_***_

Kaladin paced, he hated waiting. Wit had been gone for several hours now. Apparently, trying to find them better lodgings. He exhaled as he looked over their current shelter, a simple room with a single window overlooking a small market below. It was a bizzare place this Scadrial, the buildings were too tall and seemed flimsy like a brisk wind would simply knock them over. The ground felt too soft and the trees too fragile. Wit had warned them of a lack of Highstorms. Kaladin thought that he meant they were less frequent, than on Roshar. He’d been wrong of course. Although a part of him still held out hope. Wit had also briefly touched the fabrials, except they weren’t like the ones he’d seen in Uritheru or even in the Warcamps. They weren’t powered by stormlight and their seemed to be no visible gemstones Or Spren. That had also been a shock, no windspren dancing in the skies or flamespren darting about the coals of a fire. This world felt empty, quiet. But still so busy. He glanced up as a familiar ribbon of light alighted on his shoulder. 

“I like this place.” remarked Syl as she examined one of the strange lamps lighting up their small room. It glowed much like stormlight but not quite, instead of a gemstone the light appeared to be emmiting from a thin piece of metal. Wit explained that much of the city was powered by something called electricity a creation of man, not a tool from the almighty. Kaladin still didn’t trust it. 

“How do you feel?”

Syl shrugged, “I feel…lonely, Honor isn’t here… but my bond with you…it’s enough.” Kaladin grunted. He’d been worried about her, Syl was a tiny piece of divinity, divinity belonging to a dead god, worlds away from where they were now. 

He turned towards his companions, Adolin, and Shallan were currently seated around a small fire. A pot of stew bubbling away. The latter had fallen asleep her head resting on her beloved’s lap. Kaladin had one more, quick look out of the widow at the strange city beyond, before joining his friends around the fire. Adolin looked up as he approached trying to force a smile. Kaladin saw through it, he’d used that same smile on many an occasion. The Highprince was hurting…no not a highprince anymore, just another refugee. 

They all were, they’d lost, Uritheru belonged to the enemy, as did many of the other orders. Those who refused to submit, were given three options either lie down and die, go into hiding and hope to avoid the fused, or flee and maybe escape. A part of Kaladin wished that he’d stayed behind, that he’d died fighting alongside the others. But his curse of watching everyone else fall while he remained standing proved still intact. He thought down the darkness that threatened to send him plummeting into despair. He couldn’t afford that not now; they were in an alien land with its own threats. 

Adolin was coping even worse than he was, he’d lost his father, brother and home in a matter of days. He felt his heart clench as he thought of Dalinar and the rest of the Windrunners. Several had escaped into Shadesmar and were being led to Zahels home on Nalthis. Many of them were not so lucky. The Windrunners had been decimated when the contest of champions failed. Only Rock, Dabbid and Sigzil had managed to escape into Shadesmar. Dabbid and Sigzil were with Zahel and Rock was back with the civilians at Harmony’s Perpendicularity. Three out of nearly three-hundred. He clenched his fists trying to fight back the waves of guilt and anger. 

“how is she?” he asked trying to district himself from dwelling on unpleasant memories. 

“About as expected, barely been able to draw her away from that sketchbook of hers.” 

Kaladin shook his head in disbelief but smiled nonetheless, “The scholar in her must be loving this, getting a chance to draw all these new sights.”

“She’s hiding behind it, like she did with Veil and Radiant…”

Kaladin grew silent he’d expected that, it was what she did. Focus on something else don’t let the pain cripple you. He was doing as well to an extent, Focusing on the people he could still save not on the ones he’d lost. But of course it was hard, everytime he had a moment to think he’d think of them.

“What about you and Syl?” 

Kaladin shrugged “Syl…you know, she’s excited by everything, but she’s hurting too, in her own way.” Adolin nodded, though his mind seemed to be elsewhere as he continued to stare into the flames

“it’s all gone to damnation hasn’t it...” 

Kaladin didn’t reply. Adolin wasn’t wrong, they’d been tricked, strung along and used as pawns in an endless, pointless war. Chased from their home and their families hounded every step of the way. He didn’t say that though, Instead he glanced back to the door and frowned, what was taking Wit so long. 

He looked back at Syl who was perched in the window watching the residents of Elendel walk by. He pulled at the band on his wrist. It was a simple leather bracelet embedded with some kind of metallic coin. Apparently, it would allow him to understand the native language, something about the metal storing identity and connection similar to powers of a Bondsmith. Kaladin didn’t really understand, but as long as it worked, he didn’t care.

“You see him out there?”

“hmm oh wit, no… but there are soo many people, there are palanquins that run on their own, lights that don’t use fire or Stormlight, this place is strange, I love it. Oh and women don’t cover their safehands. So no gawking. “ he raised his eyebrows at that. That was gonna be hard to get used too. But of course the covering of the safe-hand was a Vorin tradition, the Nations to the west of Roshar didn’t practice it. So why would people of another world. “wait…I think I see something” he watched as Syl froze, he could practically feel her anxiety, “…oh…oh no.” Kaladin frowned as Syl fuzzed and zipped over to him “He’s here…oh stormfather he’s here.” 

“Wit?”

She spun around him, “no...Vyre, the traitor, the murderer.” she hissed and he felt the blood in his veins turn to Ice. No not here how could he follow us here. He jumped towards the window hoping that Syl was mistaken. He felt his stomach drop as he saw a figure standing in the square below dressed in a finely cut black military uniform a red scarf tied around his eyes and the blade of the assassin in white in his hand. Moash. He barely had time to warn the others before the door to their hiding spot disintegrated and three more traitors entered the room. 


	2. Coiling Mists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My respect for Brandon has gone up tenfold since writing this. Fight scenes are bloody hard let alone fight scenes juggling several characters with access to different magic systems. I spent ages trying to get this right and I'm still not 100% happy with it. I haven't read mistborn in a while so my memory of elendel and the octants is a bit fuzzy all I've got to draw on is the stuff in Alloy of Law which I recently re-read
> 
> there are probably a hundred inconsistencies and things I've either forgotten or overlooked. But netherless I hope people like it. It's just a bit of fun I wanted to share.

Coiling Mists

The brute really didn’t live up to his reputation, a couple of well-placed shots to his kneecaps, and a bottle smashed over his head had been enough to cow the goliath. Wax wasn’t even sure he was a pewterarm.

“Mate, are we really that good or are the conners really that bad.” Wayne remarked poking at the unconscious giant with one of his duelling canes. Wax’s was still on edge, something was wrong. The officer he'd talked to had been adamant that the brute had been well, a brute. He sighed and approached the constable who’d appeared to escort him to a more secure cell. 

“Officer Chull? you know him?” Was asked, wondering if someone had impersonated an officer to give him the run around. 

The other officer frowned “can't say that I do, what’s he look like? “ 

“Round bulbous face kinda haughty said this guy’s beaten up a couple of your own.” 

The other officer frowned. “This guy, nah, he’s a rusting asshole but he normally steers clear of us. Surprised you managed to track him down, he’s an elusive one.” _Huh, Strange_ Chull had explicitly told him where to go. 

“right, well I’m assuming you can take it from here then.” He gave the constable a quick tip of his hat, before glancing over at Wayne who seemed to be eyeing the liquor shelves. The Officer gave him a crisp nod before dragging the unconscious body out into a secure carriage awaiting outside. Wayne wandered back over leaving a empty spot of the shelf now filled with an equally empty glass. 

“So… we get set up?” 

“I…don’t know…” he felt like someone was leading him around, toying with him. “C’mon…lets get out of here before the barkeeps notices you’ve traded one of his top shelf spirits.” 

Wayne shrugged, “left an intact glass in its place most of his were chipped, mighty dangerous they were, could’ve cut myself.” Wax rolled his eyes his friend had a rather unique definition of the word _trade_.

They emerged from the pub onto the street. Despite being nearly midnight the streets were still fairly busy, a result of the lamps that lit up the city, even in the darkest of nights. He glanced around, scanning the people for anything out of the ordinary. His gaze was instantly drawn to a fellow at the centre of a nearby night market. He was staring upwards, at an abandoned tenement building. He was taller than average and wore a black uniform, possibly military, but not of a cut Wax recognized. He also wore a red scarf tied around his eyes. But what really caught Wax’s attention, was the sword he was holding. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, it was a long sleek blade, slightly curved with it’s tip buried a couple of inches into the stone, and he couldn’t sense it. Burning steel let him see the sources of metal in the vicinity around him each nail or bolt would appear at the end of a blue line emanating from his chest. 

The whole scene gave him pause, it was out of place, the outfit, the weapon, the way he held himself. There was a tension in the air, like a pillow of dread settling over the whole plaza. His Instincts told him this man was dangerous and his instincts were rarely wrong. So he began picking his way through the various stalls towards the strange figure, however before he got too close his attention was diverted by the sounds of wood burning and cracking. His gaze snapped up towards the tenement, sections of it were cracking and disintegrating into ash, plumes of it billowing away in the wind. He watched in horror as two figures crashed through the wall showering the pavement below in brick, plaster and ash. They tumbled from the second story, crashing into the stone beneath them. .

 _Preservation! what was happening._ He counted at least four more figures still inside. The building was starting to look rather precarious, walls were beginning to groan in protest. Wax was certain if much more of the support was lost, the whole building would likely come crashing down. Rust and Ruin this was a dangerous situation, that was steadily escalating out of control. He cursed “Wayne get into that building find out what's going on and get them to stop if you can. I’ll see If can keep casualties down here to a minimum. His friend nodded before rushing over to the strained structure. 

He turned back to the figures that had fallen from the building, both of whom were now back on their feet seemingly none the worse for wear. One now held an ornate silvery blue spear, and the other an equally impressive looking blade. They both moved with a grace and speed that seemed unnatural. _Could be pewterarms? Or bloodmakers?_ One appeared to be a young man with tanned skinned and curling black hair at shoulder length, dressed in a blue uniform similar in cut to the one he’d seen earlier. The other seemed shorter bald and dark skinned, also in a black uniform. 

*** 

Storms, Storms, STORMS. They’d been followed, of course they’d been followed. He’d foolishly thought that upon arriving on this alien world in the middle of a bustling city he’d find a moment of peace. But no, of course not, peace had been denied him the moment he’d picked up a spear. He sighed, _from one fight to another, it’s all my life seems to be._

He dived in between the turncoats and his friends who were still in the process of gathering their senses. He summoned his plate around Adolin, he needed it more. Kaladin could heal from a Shardblade wound, the princeling couldn’t. He growled in challenge as he deflected a blow from the bonded on the right, he refused to call them Radiants. They had betrayed their oaths and taken the easy path. _Had they, really?_ He pushed away the doubts, he’d made his choice. To fight, to get back up every-single-time.

The bonded were trying to destroy the building, they were Dustbringers, the first of the ten orders to defect to Odium. The order responsible for killing many of Kaladin’s friends. Now they were trying to drop several stories worth of metal, stone and wood onto the few he had left. He growled and knocked one of balance before spinning and launching himself at the other slicing through his sword-arm as Syl transformed into a blade mid-swing. He deflected an attack from third, and turned back towards the second who was still in the process of healing his arm. Kaladin had a little Stormlight himself, but he couldn’t afford to be wasteful with it. He risked a glance to the other side of the room, where Adolin and Shallan had engaged the other two, he exhaled, they seemed to be holding their own _good_. He turned back as his own Dustbringer charged, blade summoned in his functional hand, Kaladin deflected it easily. But the bonded didn’t stop, he ploughed into Kaladin slamming him against the wall. He grunted as he felt the wall buckle, then cave, the structure weakened by the assailants and their surges. Kaladin cursed as the wall crumbled around him as he was flung into the night. He hoped his friends could handle the other two without him. 

He collided with the pavement using a quarter lashing to lessen the impact, enough that he didn’t break bones and need to heal. He needed to preserve his Stormlight, If Vyre entered the fray he’d need every speck of it.

He rolled using the momentum to propel himself to his feet. He glanced around, the market was still busy despite it being dark. _Do these people not sleep?_ People had started to pay attention to the commotion and rather than backing away to find safety they seemed to be watching with a morbid curiosity. “I can’t see Vyre…” Syl remarked as she settled in beside him. The Dustbringer was now back on his feet and advancing, well, gliding. Kaladin held out his hand and a glistening blue spear appeared in it _be carefull_ Syl whispered in his mind. He nodded and engaged the traitor.

He launched himself into the fighting spinning and lunging to throw the bonded of his rhythm. Dustbringers seemed to prefer gliding in close, then using division to essentially vaporise their opponets. The tactic worked on Radiants as effectively as it did on regular soldiers. If his opponent caught him in a firm grip, he’d have to expend Stormlight to stop himself from being turned into a pile of smouldering ash. It’d be his light against his opponents. The traitors probably didn’t have too much left, but they wouldn’t be too worried about expending it, they could return and get more, Kaladin couldn’t. Wit had a supply but storms only knew where he was. Lift was capable of generating her own light from food.

His thoughts suddenly drifted to Lift, Rock and the other civilians that had fled Roshar with them. They’d left them near the only gateway from Shadesmar into Scadrial, in the Caverns beneath the city. A gateway Vyre and company had also likely used. He felt a sudden pang of panic as he tried to push the images of innocent people dying while huddled in a cave on an unknown world out of his mind. They weren’t alone Lift was with them, as well as those strange…shifting things. Right now, he needed to focus on this fight, here in front of him. 

The bonded had fully recovered and was moving in erratic patterns, he’d get in close as Kaladin expected then back away. As if he were toying with him. _He’s not trying to beat you…he’s trying to keep you busy._ Syl’s whispered. She was right, he was too defensive, playing for time not too win. The Dustbringer would dive in as if to grab him only for Kaladin to pull away using a quick Lashing. _He’s trying to wear me down_ he realised. He got a sense of agreement from Syl. So he gritted his teeth and prepared for a more _aggressive_ approach.

2He waited for the bonded to come again, and instead of pulling away he stepped forward attacking his opponents with a series of attacks, he let his instincts do the work. He landed a hit on the mans leg and brought his spear up to shatter his jaw and knock him back. He spun bringing the point level to his heart, he hesitated, only for a second. Instead twisting the blade around to deflect a blow to his flank. 

He Froze, only for a moment, as he came face to face with the monstrous shell of a once close friend. He growled again as he danced between the two traitors, clenching his teeth as he parried blow after blow. He didn’t have enough Stormlight for a prolonged battle against two surgebinders. A few good hits and he’d be dead. The turncoat was a decent fighter not as good as Kaladin but enough to be a nuisance. Vyre however was the real issue, trained by Kaladin himself and void of any true emotion. A dangerous combination. He couldn’t fight this battle on two fronts, not for long. Cursing he inhaled stormlight, not much, but enough to lash himself up out of the reach of the Dustbringer. He had to get Vyre alone, fight him one on one and on his terms. He just hoped the bonded wouldn’t go searching for a new target. He glanced back to check Vyre was pursuing him, he was. So he took to the skies, these may not be the ones he’d once claimed, but they were close enough.

*** 

Wax was having slight issues processing what he was seeing. They seemed to heal like bloodmakers but had no visible metalminds. They fought with the strength and grace of a pewterarm yet one of them seemed to almost skate across the ground as if it were ice. Their weapons seemed to shift and change as they fought and appeared out of nowhere. And now, two of them appeared to be flying.

The one in blue and the one with the mask had shot up into the sky, not with the extended jump of a coinshot. Proper flight, with no restrictions. He looked back at the family he was trying escort to safety, their eyes fixed on the figures duelling in the skies. Wax shook his head Impossible, they were probably coinshots, like himself, using the metal on each other’s person, to propel their flight. But no, he knew the flight of a coinshot, and that was not it.

The one who remained on the ground shouted something in a language he didn’t recognise, then turned towards the crowd a cruel glint in his eye. _Ruin!_ He didn’t like that look in his eye _._ Wax began moving through the crowds towards the stranger. Many had left the square but alas many apparently lacked that sense, instead seeing the fight as some kind of free spectacle. They stood gawking at the aerial duel occurring above their heads, failing to notice the danger gliding, _literally gliding_ among them. 

He moved as if on ice, like friction had no power over him. Wax watched in Horror as he shouted something up to men in flight then reached out his hand towards an older man dressed in a fine suit, Probably a lesser banker on a trip to meet his mistress. The man began screaming as tendrils of smoke and ash began creeping across his form in a matter of seconds the banker was nothing more than a faintly smoldering pile of ash. He cried out in rage, a cry echoed by the man-in-blue. He dropped from the sky colliding with the ground in a puff of dust and _was that blue mist?_ He launched himself at the murderer in a flurry of blows. The masked man had also reappeared and blue was once again fighting on two fronts. Wax decided it was about time he did something about that. He’d been reticent to intervene before these people were clearly powerful and he didn’t want to pick a said and have it be the wrong one he didn’t know their story. But there was one thing he could not ignore. Innocents were being caught in the cross-fire.

He drew Vindicator and levelled it at the murderer. He fired, pushing on the bullet sending it into the mans skull at insane speed. The killers head snapped backwards and he stumbled. The other two stopped, flinching at the sudden noise. The murderer however was still standing his skull reknitting as he seemed to give of a faint glow. He turned towards Wax, Half of his skull still missing. He fired a few more rounds but it only seemed to anger him. Blue had re-engage black but seemed reticent to leave the ground, his gaze occasionally flicking between his other assailant and Wax. Maybe he feared Wax couldn’t hold his ground. He’d have to fix that assumption. The murderer approached the glint back in his eye, dangerous looking sword trailing behind him. Wax grinned and flipped a loose bullet towards him. He caught it out of the air on reflex his eyebrows raised in confusion as he examined the small piece of metal. Wax flared steel and pushed sending the murderer crashing through the window of a local bakery. He glanced back at blue and gave him a lawman’s salute. Blue raised his weapon above his head, a salute of his own Wax figured. Mask had retreated to the sky realising he no longer had the advantage of numbers. Blue looked Wax over with a somewhat, judgemental gaze, before turning back to the ruined bakery.

“Reckon you can handle him?” he asked thumbing towards the bakery. His accent was unfamiliar. Definitely not a local.

Wax shrugged “don’t know but im still gonna try.” Honestly Wax didn’t know. These people clearly didn’t know how to fight an Allomancer but then again Wax had no idea what these people were capable of.

Blue nodded, though he didn’t seem overly convinced .“Don’t let him get in close, and watch out for that blade, he’ll heal, but his light will run out eventually.” He warned before spinning to reengage the figure in black. 

Wax had already figured the first bit out. And the second, well that was just common sense. He Turned back to the bakery and saw the aforementioned blade slice through a piece rubble as if it were butter. _Ahh so that’s what he meant by ‘avoid the blade’._ He watched as the figure pulled himself out of the ruined building his uniform in tatters. Well this was gonna be tricky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of, yes Chull is Wit in disguise.   
> secondly please let me know what you think, I'm probably not gonna change anything unless its something like a typo or something small. But I still wanna know how this could have been better.


	3. Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long i had to rewrite half the scenes on top of that i had my own original work that i need to work on and ive recently started a new online course among other personal things going on. Basically i've been busy and this sorta got kicked to the wayside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writng from Waynes P.O.V ive rewritten it several times and each time he turns out a little different, so please let me know if i got his character right or if theres anything i need to edit.

Wayne was in over his head, he’d realized that the minute he’d charged into a building that had more holes in then his lucky socks. A fact he was ever sure of the minute he saw those swords. They were mighty big swords, sharp looking too, and there was four of them being waved around in a room the size of a fancy crapper, It was big for a crapper but still, not a lot of room to swing a sword in.

Two of the four combatants were completely encased in impossibly intricate suits of plate armour. One a garnet red, the other a lightish blue. The two not dressed in something straight out of a children’s fantasy were dressed in a smart black military uniform. One was tanned skinned with a white beard and _were those eyebrows_? They were long white and tucked behind his ears. The other was pale skinned with reddish brown hair, a scared face and half a nose. 

All four were engaged in a vicious melee, Red & Blue on one side nose and brows on the other. Wayne had absolutely no idea what to do, he didn’t know why they were fighting, who the good guys were or how to get them to stop. Wax would know he always seemed to know. Red and Blue appeared to be on the defensive, standing at the centre of the room back to back while the other two circled, occasionally darting in to test the defences. He watched as Nose growled something in a language Wayne had never heard and pressed his hand to ground. Streams of smoke began to rise as black lines began spider webbing across the floor and entire sections of it began to disappear. The floor began to groan In protest, _Ruin that’s not good._ Blue apparently agreed, he’d thrown himself at nose leaving red to handle Brows alone.

Wayne’s choice was beginning to get a little clearer, but mostly he just wanted to get out of there and leave them to resolve whatever beef they had. However the building they were in, seemed to be disintegrating around them and if the several stories of hardwood, brick and metal were to come crashing down well that just wouldn’t be right. So he hovered just on the outskirts as Blue unleashed a torrent of blows onto nose with a speed and precision that Wayne didn’t think was possible in armour that bulky or a weapon so ridiculously oversized. Nose was clearly outclassed, as was the floor which was starting to bow under the increased weight. Wayne Cursed as be braced himself for what was inevitably coming. The floor boards began to crack and creak. He’d been in enough collapsing buildings to know it was painful and while he could heal from most injuries provided he had enough health built up in his metalminds. He couldn’t heal if he was knocked unconscious. He called out a warning to blue, though the bloke probably couldn’t hear him under all that metal. Even if he had the floor collapsed just as the words left his mouth, sending the three of them crashing into the Apartment below.

Wayne groaned as he desperately searched for his lucky hat and set about tapping his goldminds. The fall hadn’t been too bad there was no explosion this time at least. His wrist was broken, and he likely had several cracked ribs. No he was more worried about his hat _If it had been squashed_ …he tried not to think about it. Fortunately he didn’t have to as he saw the thing perched atop a piece of rubble, conspicuously unaffected. The rubble however was beginning to smoulder. _Oh no you don’t._

He dashed forward ignoring the pain in his ribs and snatched away the wide-brimmed roughs style hat just as the plank it was resting upon disappeared in a puff of smoke. Wayne grimaced as he came face to face with nose. He was even uglier up close, and the fall hadn’t done him any favors and his eyes, well they seemed empty, like a void, there was colour and life, but something…seemed missing.

“I’d get away from him, if I were you… unless you want to end up as dust?” remarked a voice just off to his right. Blue had also survived the fall mostly intact. Though his armour looked like it had seen better days. It hadn’t buckled how metal normally does instead it was covered in a series of small cracks leaking a strange white blue mist. The helm seemed to have disappeared entirely. Revealing a young blue-eyed man, mid-twenties with dirty blonde hair and a handsome pretty boy face marred by large cut across his brow likely received in the fall. Wayne did as was suggested, backing away from nose as he began to stir, and _glow._ Who in the survivors rusting balls were these people?

“Mate, he glows…” he remarked, back even further away and thumbing towards nose.

Blondie sighed as he seemed to gather himself for a minute, “yeah…they do that. Storms it’s annoying.” He said feeling at the cut on his forehead. He winced “great, really hope that doesn’t scar.” Wayne couldn’t place his accent. It had a hint of aristocracy but the sounds were wrong like he wasn’t speaking the language his tongue was meant for.

Wanye shrugged and glanced back at nose who was already back on his feet, blue’s gaze hardened as he held out his hand that oversized letter opener appearing as if out of mist. Wayne cocked an eyebow and put up a speed bubble there was enough room to just get him and blue. Nose was just outside its boundry.

Blue stopped as he noticed his opponent freeze. “what?, is this you?” he turned back to Wayne with a somewhat confused expression. He nodded and scooped up his duelling sticks from where they had fallen.

He gave one a little twirl, and pointed it towards nose, “Hi I’m Wayne, I’m a deputy, he a bad guy?” Blue nodded “Great, fantastic and you? Not secretly plotting to massacre a bunch of people are you?”

Blue stared at him as ifhe actually seemed to beconsidering how to reply “Uh no? I’m Adolin, kinda just trying to, y’know, not die.” Wayne grinned, good Massacres were bad business and well making sure people didn’t die was his job so he might as well do it. Adolin eventually seemed to recover some measure of composure as he gestured towards nose who was still frozen, or more accurately moving reeeeeeally slow. “How are you doing this?”

Wayne smiled, “I’m magic I am, a Bonafide magician, and looks like I picked the right side, rusting great that is.” he stood hand on hips eyeing the blade in Adolins hand, it was easily as tall as a man, but he lifted it with no issue and a good couple of inches were buried into the floor “Whats the deal with those swords anyway, wanna trade?” 

The lad looked at him with a rather dumbfounded expression “Maya? Uh she’s not for trade I'm afraid.” Wayne shrugged it was worth a try. Maybe Wax could get him one. “She’s a Shardblade, do you not have them here?”

“nah some military folks still carry swords but apparently there for like ornamentation and stuff. Most people used guns.” Wayne didn’t because of reasons.

“guns?, never mind…” he shook his head and hefted that sword, Maya he’d called it, “ well er don’t let one one hit you, they can cut through stone like it’s air and they sever the soul instead of the flesh, if one cuts your spine, your eyes shrivel and burn and you die.” Wayne whistled, as he regarded the weapon with a little more respect. “If you can help, keep him distracted and away from the walls I don’t want him to bring down the entire building on our heads.”

Wayne nodded simple enough, he glanced up towards the floor above he could just about see red fighting beyond. “What about your mate in red, he gonna be alright.”

Adolin grinned “Yeah, she’ll be fine, she’ll have my head if we survive though, we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.”

*** 

He’d heard the scream, and had been too late to save the man as his remains were carried away by the winds. Kaladin had been furious, you don’t target non-combatants _ever._ Fortunately someone else had taken issue with it as well. He’d been pleasantly surprised when the guy in the fine coat and strange hat had managed to fling a bonded across the square. He just hoped his new ally and his strange surges would be enough to handle a psychotic ex-radiant.

He had to dedicate all of his attention to keeping track of Vyre who had been leading him on a merry chase between the too-tall buildings. Kaladin dived once more, spear in hand towards the traitor, then froze as the sound of cracking wood and falling debris caught his attention. He glanced towards the building he’d left Adolin and Shallan inside. He could could just about make out Shallans plated form inside, her husband however was nowhere to be seen. He fought down a rising panic, the rooms floor had caved in likely taking Adolin with it, he cursed and tried to banish the images creeping into his mind. _He ‘s wearing plate he’s likely fine maybe a bit dazed._

He turned back to Vyre only to spot a strange metallic cylinder hurtling straight towards him. The cylinder crashed into him throwing him backwards, he managed to right himself and lash the strange piece of metal safely to the ground. Vyre had returned to the ground and was now lashing even more objects towards him. Bench's, dropped luggage, bits of a felled tree. Each time he had expend stormlight to redirect the debris and prevent from flattening any of the bystanders. His Stormlight was starting to run dangerously low, he realised that was likely Vyre’s plan. Wear him down, endanger civilians and force him on the defensive. Without stormlight, he’d be left exhausted and unable to heal.

He dropped down to street level, he’d have to finish this duel on the ground. Quickly too. He quickly noted the location of the dustbringer. The Scadrian definitely seemed to be holding his own. His strange weapon, some kind of explosive fabrial definitely seemed to pack a punch and whatever surges he had access to kept him at a distance and out of the blades reach. Hopefully he’d wear the bonded down and prevent him from wreaking anymore havoc.

He launched himself towards Vyre spear at the ready. He hesitated and watched with a mounting dread as Vyre hacked down a large tree, blade shearing through it trunk like it was one of Shallan’s illusions and sent it hurtling towards a young girl who was desperately trying to reach her parents on the other side of square. Kaladin felt his heart sink, Vyre knew where to stick the spear to do the most damage. In this case all he had to do was point it at an innocent. Kaladin cursed and dashed forward he couldn’t summon his plate like he usually would, not with Adolins status being so precarious. So he summoned Syl as a shield, he reached out his free hand towards the girl and with his remaining Stormlight, he lashed her towards her panicking parents. The small form was yanked out of the trees path, Kaladin however was not, he cried out as his left arm was pinned to his chest as it collided, the shield disappearing as his grip slackened. He was thrown back and slammed against a stone wall. The trunk dropped as the Stormlight leaked out, he could hear syl’s panicked voice in his ear. As he tried to move and free himself, his chest and upper thigh explode with pain. He groaned as he tried to pull in whatever scraps of Stormlight he had left, the pain receded but only slightly, he was out completely. The surgeon took over, he likely had several broken ribs a dislocated shoulder and _oh,_ as he looked down at he noticed a large splinter the size of his forearm had impaled him in the thigh. He gritted his teeth trying to fight of the waves of nausea and pain, the splinter would have to remain, for a while at least, if he pulled it out now and discovered it had nicked a major artery, he’d likely be dead in a matter of minutes. He cut it down to size with the sylknife, then hauled himself to his feet summoning Syl as a spear to use as a makeshift crutch. He could feel her worry through their bond, “Summon your plate... Kaladin please.” 

“Adolin needs it..” he replied as Vyre began his approach, blade dragging behind him.

“You need it more, He’s got Shallan and Maya. They'll be alright. “ She begged for him to summon the plate, he inhaled , _storms he hurt._ Syl was right of course, she was always right, if he died here Odium won, everyone who was gone, everyone he’d lost, they’d have died for nothing. He sighed and made a choice. He sent a silent prayer to the Almighty or whatever god was listening, begging them to look after his friends, the scarce few he had left.

He dismissed syl and pulled himself to his full height, he towered above most of the locals. windspren began to coalesce around his form. They were bonded to him much like Syl but not quite as profoundly. But it meant they were able to manifest in a world far from Honor or Cultivation. He felt the plate wrap around his form, several pieces were missing, they would recover over time without Stormlight, but for now he’d have to make do without it. Plate doesn’t heal but it did dull the pain somewhat. Enough just to give him an extra reserve of strength. Vyre stopped and sighed, “Let it go Kal, you’ve already lost, you're just causing yourself more pain.” 

Hit gritted his teeth against another wave of pain and nausea, a part of him wondered why he kept fighting, why he didn’t just surrender. He knew the reason, he’d sworn an Oath. Life before Death, Strength before Weakness and Journey before destination. His journey still had more to give. He charged Forward Sylspear forming in his single good hand. 

*** 

The murder was healing slower now, much too Wax’s relief, on top of that he hadn’t claimed any more victims. However he now had his eyes solely on Wax. The Man was Quick, sliding across the ground in single fluid motions and that Sword, it sliced through metal like it was nothing. He dreaded to think what it would do to flesh. He’d spared a couple of glances to see how Blue fared. He seemed to be struggling, spending most of his trying deflecting projectiles away from civilans. _They’re trying to wear him down, distract him._ Wax felt a sudden intense dislike for the figures in black, they fought without Honor or morals. He turned back to his own opponent eager to end their little dance. He had one bullet left in the chamber, One of ranettes specialty bullets meant for taking down a Pewterarm, he hoped it would work on whatever this guy was. After all if he’s healing was slowing, then his reserves were likely running low.

He scanned the area, the glider had taken to hiding then leaping out when Wax’s head was turned. He didn’t realise that Wax could see him with his allomancy. In fact he seemed entirely ill accustomed to fighting allomancers. He kept trying to get in close only to be pushed backwards or for Wax to leap out of the way with a steel enhanced jump. 

Wax spotted him, just out the corner of his eye, he came speeding out from behind a stall draped in many colourful fabrics, holding an intricate-looking shield out infront _Where’d he get that from?_ Wax tried pushing against the buttons of the man’s uniform as he’d done before but he couldn’t seem to sense any metal beyond the shield. He cursed and dropped a spent casing using it as an anchor to propel him in a jump over the shield bearer's head. His opponent didn’t seem to care. Wax frowned and glanced towards the other side of the Square just in time to see a tree the size of a small motorcar flung across the square, towards a young girl. Blue was there in an instant, pushing the girl free of the danger. He however was not so lucky, the mass of bark, wood and shattered twisted branches collided with the young man carrying him with it as it ploughed into the low wall of a nearby warehouse. Blue dragged himself from out of the wreckage. Even from a distance Wax could see he was in trouble, clothing torn and stained with blood his left arm hung awkwardly. He looked barely able to stand. Wax cursed, if blue went down he didn’t know if he could handle both of them together. He’d have to put the glider down quick, hopefully give his new ally a fighting chance.

Blue staggered forward as he pulled himself up, a torrent of lights begun to appear and swirl around the young man, eventually coalescing into an impossibly intricate set of faintly glowing heavy armour. Blue charged forward and they clashed once again, the heavy plate could have been made from mist for all it seemed to weigh him down. Wax shook his head he was going to need some answers after this was all over. But first he had a murderer to deal with.

He turned back to own problem, the murderer appeared to be watching the duel in the centre of the square, likely deciding whether or not to give up Wax for easier prey. Not that it was going to happen Wax had unfinished business with this guy. He aimed vindicator, lining up the shot, finger hovering over the trigger, then squeezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for checking this out please let me know what you think, anything ive missed or that my sleep deprived brain has mangled. I wont put any edits up right away. i'll make them to my master document then probably replace it if i ever get the whole thing up.
> 
> lastly thank you for the comments, they're super helpful.  
> anyway i am going to go to bed now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Section, there are gonna be five in total with the names of each chapter hopefully forming a Ketek. This is the first of a couple of scenarios I want to write. This isn't going to be a fully blocked out story, though If I do write any more they will probably be linked to this one.
> 
> Anyway I hope you liked it, if I have missed anything or there is anything I could do to improve please let me know.


End file.
